


Bullet Holes & Heart Beats

by mamey2422



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 00:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamey2422/pseuds/mamey2422
Summary: Post 2x13 fluff, angst and sex for Yasmijo/Yashmihoe, a Brio intellectual.





	Bullet Holes & Heart Beats

It’s true what they say. Your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. Or think you’re going to die. For Rio, it was a white blur of Marcus, his parents, grandparents, his first car, his childhood pet cat, and oddly a road trip to Niagara Falls. Despite the white light calling his name, he wasn’t surprised to wake up in a hospital room hours later. Alive was how Turner wanted him.

The human body was a fascinating thing. Life and death decided by a game of fractions. A puncture versus a nick. High versus low. Inches versus centimeters. Luckily for Rio, everything “just missed.” And Turner called an ambulance in time thanks to his deal with the devil.

Rio had been shot once before. A flesh wound on his thigh during a drop gone wrong. Blood, guns, violence all came with the territory. That’s what Beth needed to learn. She needed to get her hands dirty, get blood on them. It was the only way Rio could really know she had what it took to be a real boss. He taught her, pushed her, never expecting his flesh would be the one ripping open, his blood darkening in a pool on the floor.

Beth’s betrayal hit just as painfully as the gunshots. Those invisible wounds hadn’t healed yet though, festering reminders about how fucked up everything was.

At first, Beth intrigued him. Making valid points about the downside to murdering basic bitches, all with a gun to her head. Then she became an actual business asset. She was good at washing money, resourceful. Somewhere along the way lines were blurred, boundaries crossed. Distributor, pill pusher, henchman, driver, boss. Everyone had a lane but he could no longer distinguish where Beth fit. She was a confusing headache that spiraled out of control. Beth got him arrested. Made mess after mess. Told him she was out. Red flag after red flag that Beth was a rotten egg but he ignored his own advice – get rid of her before she spoiled everything. Instead, he circled her, pulled her back in. Did things for no other reason than to keep her close. And she shot him.

But all that that was over. Rio was good at improvising, and, despite his close call with death, he was ready to flip his game. Never more ready, in fact.

From the moment Rio made a deal with Turner, he began preparing for the day he would renege on it. He grew to resent sleep while he recovered. Considered it a waste of precious seconds, minutes, hours. He used the night to pace, plot, plan – a man obsessed. He bided his time. Established trust with Turner, fed him harmless pieces of information that felt important, satisfied his ego. One advantage in Rio’s corner was the wealth of information he carried about the underbelly of Detroit’s criminal landscape.  What Turner thought he knew barely scratched the surface of a hidden, deep labyrinth.

He had a plan for Beth too. In the darkest moments, he fantasized about fucking her hard and fast and leaving her, hurt and used. Same as she did to him. But that wasn’t important. He would use her in a different way. It was payback time.  

Rio knew Beth, inside and out. Like how she was a creature of routine. She ran her mundane errands in the same order every Wednesday - dry cleaners, grocery store, home. She’d walk through the front door in about ten minutes. He’d be ready and waiting.

* * *

An odd feeling ghosted up the back of Beth’s neck the second she stepped through her front door.  The house was quiet, as it was every Wednesday when the kids were with Dean, their divorce now fully in motion. Everything looked as it should. Clean and organized as it was whenever the kids weren’t running around. But the air felt ominous somehow, thick. Beth was so distracted she immediately dropped her purse on the floor.  

“Hey honey, I’m home.” 

The five simple syllables, carried by that familiar raspy voice, crashed into her in a paralyzing wave. Blood drained from her head so quickly, she felt faint. Her pulse thundered as if she’d been running. Or maybe telling her to run.

Claustrophobia squeezed her lungs, the entire room suddenly contracted into a tunnel, pointing into the kitchen where the voice originated. Beth stepped tentatively, one foot slowly in front of the other. She reminded herself to breath. This wasn’t the first time she imagined hearing Rio, seeing him. More than once, flashes of him appeared in the span of a blink while at the park. Whispers of his voice carried away with the wind.  Only when he was gone did she realize how much he had filled her life. Now, there was just emptiness, a vapor, a bone deep despair that nothing but guilt would ever fill the space where he used to be.

 _It’s your imagination_. _It’s your imagination_. Beth repeated, willing it to be true. She turned the corner into the kitchen and gasped. A small, quiet release of pure intense shock. What she saw turned her skin instantly cold from the inside out, knotted her stomach, froze her limbs.

Rio.

Sitting on the counter, casually waiting, as if not a care in the world. As if he’d been invited. A man supremely confident of his belonging there.

Her eyes moved from his head, down the length of his body and up again, her brain forcing her to process what was in front of her. Dark hair, dark clothes, dark eyes. Rio. Living and breathing. And angry. His corded neck, the tension in his jaw, the firm set of his mouth all silent signals. He looked a little thinner. But still powerful. Intimidating. Awareness flushed through her, her blood thickened, pulsing in her neck, between her legs.

A slow shiver of terror tingled Beth’s scalp, spread through her like poison, threatened to spew everything out of her body. She clenched against the stinging bile in her throat trying to give nothing away. No change in body language, no shift in facial expression, not a single extra blink of an eye.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Amusement tickled Rio’s voice, the corners of his mouth kicked up.

The familiar pull that only Beth created simmered up Rio’s spine, increasing in intensity as she came into full view. She was in her usual jeans, green silk blouse. Green was her color. Accentuated her big blue eyes, creamy skin, the natural pink of her pretty pouty lips. She’d somehow gotten more beautiful.  Despite the bitter taste in his mouth, he couldn’t deny the cruel arousal that came with Beth’s show of power.

Beth finally blinked, inhaled deeply. He couldn’t be real. He wasn’t really there. She read about this – grief hallucinations. She walked out of that loft, all the way home, in a haze. Shock initially cushioned her from processing the thunderous blow of the gun, the blood that poured out of him, his look of baffled fury, the hard thud of his body falling to the ground.

It didn’t hit her that she’d taken his life until days and days later.  Once reality set that Rio was gone, that she was a killer, hours stretched emptily, endlessly. She filled them with distraction, with money laundering, sending Marcus elaborate but anonymous care packages. Shooting Rio was supposed to free her, but instead it pulled her deep into a cloudy hell. Nightmares came. Usually of Rio’s last breath. She woke up every night in a trembling sweat just as he gasped out her name through a mouthful of blood. Beth welcomed the torture, her penance. But all her grief was all misplaced. He was alive.

She held his gaze. Beth tried thinking over the hammering in her head. Silence was the best response. At least until the room stopped spinning. The only noise was the slow drip, drip, drip of the running faucet she kept meaning to get fixed.

“You should really get that taken care of.” As if reading her mind, Rio pointed to the sink. “A dripping faucet wastes three gallons of water a day, you know?”

He hopped off the counter and walked toward her in his unhurried, predatory stride. He raked a gaze over her, the intensity of it made her shiver. Made it feel like he was touching her.

“Oh, relax sweetheart,” he said when he saw her entire body flinch at his approach. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He stopped only when he was crowding her, close enough to stroke his finger down her cheek, push her hair off her face. The caress was as warm and smooth as Beth remembered, satisfying an unknown yearning to be touched by him. The slow, measured familiarity of the movement simultaneously calmed and unnerved her.

“I’ve been told to be on my best behavior.” Rio said in mocking assurance. 

Thoughts shifted and reshaped rapidly in Beth’s mind, making coherency difficult. But she latched onto one word – one person – who connected all the dots to Rio standing in front of her.

“Turner?”

“What do you think?” He let the realization sink in.

“What do you want?” A determined flash glinted in her eyes, teeth gritted, muscles tensed. Beth’s cheeks were hot with anger and embarrassment over being so naïve. She hated Turner. She hated Rio. Or maybe she hated herself. For foolishly thinking she meant anything to either of them.

“Answering questions with questions isn’t going to get us anywhere. Didn’t we learn that already?”

“Go to hell,” She hissed.

“Okay. If that’s how you want to play this.” He smiled, showing all his teeth in a fake, dangerous grin. The kind that didn’t soften his mouth or any of his features. Instead, it emphasized the sharpness of his face, his words. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

What was that inflection in his voice? Sadness? Whatever it was, it broke her. Exhaustion, anxiety, fear and a mix of other emotions she couldn’t isolate or identify tightened into a hot ball in her stomach, rising into her throat. Fat tears spilled out uncontrollably so that his face became a watery blur. She covered her mouth to keep herself from wailing, only strangled hiccups escaping.

Rio resisted the urge to wipe away her tears, his fingers itched with the impulse. But he didn’t feel bad. She shouldn’t have fucked with him. He was simply coming for what he was owed.

“Don’t cry, Elizabeth. I just stopped by to give you something.” He hitched his chin behind him in the direction of the counter where he’d been sitting. “Bourbon’s still your poison, right?”

Before she could respond, he turned and let himself out the back door.

There sitting on the counter was bottle of bourbon, a strand of familiar pearls and a small USB drive.

* * *

 

Beth met Rio the next day at the park bench. His brief text pinged her phone with a time and location, just like old times. It was late, the low sun cast harsh shadows across his face, unsmiling lips.

Beth spent all night assimilating the events of the past twenty fours hours. The scattered thoughts and information she’d pieced together led to awful scenarios of jail, maybe death. Scenarios she thought were long behind her. Rio was alive. Turner wanted her arrested. There was a video on the USB drive, showing violent images of herself, Rio, Turner in the empty loft. Beth forgot about the camera in Rio’s apartment so it took her a moment to register what she was watching. Seeing that night replay was an out of body experience. She didn’t recognize herself – hysterical, terrified.

But it was Rio who looked the strangest. He didn’t look as threatening as she remembered. With the benefit of slow motion, she actually saw tenderness in his gestures. Passing her the gun, encouraging her, even if it was to shoot Turner. With every rewind, she saw her circumstances didn’t lay entirely at Rio’s feet. He had pushed her too far, too fast. But she was also culpable, made a lot of mistakes. And she responded with what years of conditioning had trained her to do. Plunge headfirst into fixing her problems. Survive. Move fast, then faster, get it done before anything caught up with her. That had been her mentality ever since her mother checked out and Annie became Beth’s responsibility. Old habits were hard to break.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” he said as she took a seat on the bench.  

“You didn’t leave me a choice.”

“There’s always a choice. You told me that once.”

“What did Turner offer you?”

“Full immunity.” He didn’t need to keep his cards to his chest, there was no time for games. The sooner he took care of this situation the sooner he could walk away. From Detroit. From Beth. A fresh start for him and Marcus.  

“In exchange for me?”

“Yes.” He replied without a blink, without hesitation. “I told you Turner was your problem. He’s like a dog and we’re big fat t-bones.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful that you’re telling me this?”

“No.” He shrugged with indifference.

“Then why I am sitting here instead of in a jail cell? How do I know you won’t kill me?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Beth quietly gasped, both from his words and the chill in his voice. She felt the cut of his razor sharp stare. It suddenly struck her how insane this conversation was. What do you say to someone you thought you killed?

Rio smirked at Beth’s stunned silence. “Too soon?”

He had a lot more to say to Beth, to ask – primarily ‘why?’ - but he had business to take care of and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to her excuses.

“First things first, I need my money back. All of it. Plus interest.”

“What money?”

“Last I remember, you had a bag full of my cash to clean. And your friend used some of if to pay her lawyer. That made some headlines so interest is tripled.”

“ _What?_ ” Beth couldn’t believe it. That after everything that has happened – was happening – Rio would still care about one delivery, a small drop in the bucket in the grand scheme of things.

If Rio was going to get a fresh start and take care of Turner, he needed money, lots of it. Turner was watching him like a hawk so he couldn’t do it himself. Besides, this was on Beth, she owed him.

“Your amateur, rinky-dink operation isn’t going to cut it either.”

His dismissal of her business, that he even knew about it, stung her with embarrassment. Admittedly, her money laundering had gotten off to a bumpy start. Getting cash to look real took more than a fancy laser printer. And all her contacts pled allegiance to Rio, local stores already had the girls on their watch list. So far, her efforts led to a pile of value-less paper. 

“I’ll get you your money,” Beth replied defiantly. “Then what? You save yourself by snitching?”

“Then we let him think you killed me. For real this time. I give the feds the tape, framing him. That happens, we both walk away happy.”

“That’s your big idea?”

“Turner’s on a one man mission. Either we stop him or he’ll do whatever it takes to see both of us behind bars. Maybe worse.”

“Where will you go?”

“Not your concern.”

His answer stung. She hated that she wanted to know, that she cared at all. She quickly pivoted back to the business at hand. “And if I don’t help, you use the tape to make it look like I killed you?”

Rio answered with a crocodile grin, amused with himself.

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Beth asked.

“Of what?”

“Manipulating people?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of pretending you’re better than me? Thinking you’re not a criminal? Pretending you can walk the line between good and bad?”

Rio’s responses were rapid fire, hot with quiet rage, a momentary break in his cool. 

“Oh, I should be more like you?”

“And how am I?”

“Greedy, selfish, cruel. You terrorized me.”

“No,” he raised his voice to match hers. “I gave you exactly what you asked for.”

Her lips parted but nothing came out. Eventually she closed them.

“Be smart about this, Elizabeth,” he cautioned.

They stared into each other’s eyes – both unyielding.

“You in?” he asked.

Worried and intrigued, Beth gave a small nod.

* * *

Their agreement was simple. Rio would use Beth’s money laundering to repay her debt, plus make enough money to fake his death. One thing Rio knew about money, about having lots of it, was that it didn’t make life happier, but it did make life easier. And when you’re trying to fake a death, money greased the wheels, especially when you needed people with badges and official stamps and important titles in their signature to look the other way. You wouldn’t believe how expensive it was to pay a medical examiner to issue a death certificate without a body.

He’d help Beth get her operation legitimate and successful enough to appear to be a serious player, a major threat to Rio’s gang. Really get Turner’s mouth watering, they needed him erratic, trigger happy. It would take a few months. Big box stores and the car dealership no longer options, Rio set his sights on a mattress chain. They’d be patient, do it right.

It’s like that Beth and Rio fell back into old patterns, habits. Except darker, more twisted. The first couple of weeks were so hectic Beth didn’t have time to let reality sink in. That she was cleaning money again for Rio. Things snowballed quickly. She filled in Ruby and Annie. After weathering the shock, they both told her she was making a dreadful mistake. 

Beth had to be the face of the operation for this to work. Tuner watched Rio like a hawk. So Rio stayed under the radar, distracted Turner with wild goose chases, sometimes with legitimate kernels at the end. But Rio did not trust Beth. After all, he handed her a gift, an opportunity to get rid of her ultimate rotten egg, and she failed. So no more kid gloves. They were doing things his way and he was methodical, demanding, relentless.

Beth wanted to come to meetings. He refused. Beth wanted only two printing presses to save money, Rio bought four for efficiency and speed. She said ‘ready.’ He said ‘do it over.’ He sat, she stood. He scheduled morning, she did evening. Up, down. Push, pull.

They were like two animals in a cage, continually competing, constantly tearing at each other. Reasonable discussions rarely ended without tempers flaring, seemingly no winner in their imaginary competition where they scored points against each other. Both of them were power hungry, got off on it. Their recent loaded history hadn't dimmed their attraction for each other. It burned hotter than ever in a torturous touchless foreplay. Hanging even heavier in the air were the weighty unspoken questions and truths about feelings that still lingered. About a gunshot and its aftermath.

Money kept them sane. It was coming in fast. Underneath all the tension were two people who worked well together, complemented each other when they actually let themselves be. It wasn’t that long ago, even if for just a brief moment in time, when they built solid partnership. Two people who enjoyed working together, being with each other, even laughed sometimes. But that was all gone now, shut down, obliterated into surly dust. 

Beth was quickly reminded how little she knew about this man. He was a chameleon. Rio. Christopher. Gang leader. Devoted father. Living in a high-end loft one day, departed the next. That’s how he maintained control, easily shedding roles whenever he needed to while Beth walked around as if her skin didn’t fit, tight and uncomfortable. He left her suspended in states of loyalty and resentment, anxiety and respect, worry and comfort.

It’s this conflicting swell of emotions that have her banging on Rio’s hotel door. She texted him that she was coming over, hoping her all caps ‘ _RIGHT NOW_ ’ relayed the urgency. He was in a suite, spacious and comfortable enough for him and Marcus. No need for anything more permanent.

“What is this?”

Beth barely let Rio open the door before stepping through, shoving her phone in his face.

“Me and Turner?” Rio glanced at Beth’s phone, identifying a picture of the two of them from this morning at a coffee shop.

“He’s back in town and you didn’t think to tell me?” Through Rio, she knew Turner was staying out of Detroit until he was ready to make his move. So Beth was shocked when Ruby texted her a surveillance picture Stan had seen at the precinct. Her caption simply said, ‘He’s baaaack.’

“I just heard from him today. He asked to meet.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing really. Just checking in.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing really.”

“Nothing really? It doesn’t concern you that he’s back? That it probably means he’s ready to strike?”

“No,” Rio shrugged casually. “This was the plan. I want him paying attention. The bigger mess he makes, the harder he falls.”

“You couldn’t give me the courtesy of telling me?”

“Like I said, it was nothing.” The pace of his words slowed, his patience thinning.

“I don’t believe you.”

Nothing was ever simple with him, with them. A coffee was never just a coffee. She never knew what was the truth with Rio or just words to keep her off balance, in the dark. Right now she felt dizzy, blind. 

“You never do.”

Beth pushed past him to leave. He sidestepped in front of her, blocking. She angled the opposite direction. He countered.  Beth tried again with more force behind her body, but still hit the wall of his chest. Finally taking a rigid stance, she shoved him with two hands, exasperated and determined. It was never a contest. He grabbed her by the shoulders, turned them around and backed her against the door, holding her still there by pressing his body flush against hers. Beth twisted and squirmed, almost manic. She needed to get away, get out of this room. This was not supposed to happen. Rio was supposed to dead. Turner was supposed to be out of her life. Why couldn’t she just get back to normal? She didn’t even know what normal was anymore.  

“Stop,” Rio whispered thickly. He was going crazy. Must be. Wasn’t this his exact problem? Not letting Beth go. But being close to her again soothed him, drove him to get even closer. He never wanted to help, battle, please, frustrate another woman as much as Beth. His heart and mind stumbled around these thoughts, tethered to memories of the last time they were in a bedroom together, the last time he felt something pure and real with a woman.

Beth eventually realized Rio was still, his hands firm on her arms but he wasn’t forceful, aggressive. The pressure of his undemanding hold reached deep inside her, calmed her. She was no longer shaking with frustration, but tingling with anticipation. She wanted to burrow into his neck, breath him in.

Her heart beat in a crazy rhythm against her chest. It was getting difficult to concentrate; everything about him overwhelmed her senses. The firmness of his body, the heat of his skin, his earthy scent. He shifted, just enough to align their bodies, the hardness against her thigh unmistakable.

Rio ran his thumb across her lower lip. Self preservation was telling him to stop. Kissing Beth was a bad idea, but he wanted it. Wanted her. She was his downfall, his kryptonite, but in this moment, he didn’t care. He replaced his thumb with his lips soft and light. He withdrew just far enough to catch his breath, focus, confirm her willingness.

Rio’s kiss was light, brief, but enough to jolt pleasure into her heart, down to her toes. She gripped his shoulders, intending to push him away, but her hands refused to cooperate. Her brain couldn’t reconcile what her body wanted.

Her body won the battle. She arched her hips into him and that was all Rio needed to crush her mouth with his like a starved man. The kiss was savage, frantic, greedy. Teeth and tongue and power. Beth matched him, roughness for roughness. Want, need and surrender unleashed in both of them.

He bit her wet, plump lower lip before moving to her neck, sucking the spot just beneath her ear. Quickly her shirt was removed, her bra. He growled with satisfaction as he played with her breasts, palmed her tenderly, possessively. His mouth followed the trail of his fingers, using his tongue to tug her, tease her.

Rio felt wild and Beth fed off his energy. She grabbed his earlobe with her teeth, scraped his neck, kissed his eagle tattoo, licked it. His breath, skin, hair, the rasp of his beard, his hardness. All signs of life that fueled her. She ran insatiable hands all over him before wrangling him out of his shirt, sliding her hands across his chest as if seeing it for the firs time. Beth paused when her fingers found the scars she inflicted, each of their breathing rapid and hot as she looked up at him with remorse. Her touch was timid at first, as if afraid to hurt him, her fingers twitching as she traced the bumpy ridges. Each a ragged circle, each slightly different. His hips jerked when her lips repeated the caress. One, two, three.

Lust surged through him as Beth dropped to her knees, unbuckling his pants, trailing kisses down his stomach, nuzzling his navel. He could feel her breath over him, making him even harder.  The first touch of her lips on him was wet and velvety. Her tongue caressed him. His hands fisted in her hair, sweat broke across his skin as she moved faster, took him in deeper.

He felt himself losing control and gently tugged her up, but Beth didn’t want to stop. She wanted him to fill her mouth, to taste him. He groaned and pulled her up harder before she finally let him slip from her mouth. He led her to the bedroom, their clothes falling in light thuds along the way.

He lowered himself over her on the bed and kissed her mouth, jaw, neck. His hands skimmed over her body, in between her legs. He worked his fingers slow then fast, light then deep, until her hips rocked.

He came up on his knees, parted her thighs. Their eyes locked when he buried himself in her. Vulnerability mirrored in each of them. For a long moment, Rio remained still, savoring her. Getting his heart twisted around Beth again was not part of the plan, too dangerous and confusing. But everything with her always was. That’s what he loved about her. He tangled a hand with hers and started moving, his strokes long and smooth, their bodies finding a rhythm of claiming and giving. He moved his free hand between them until he could touch her right where she needed it, even as he thrust deeper. Moans tumbled from her lips. Through it all their gazes held. Rio seeing Beth. Beth seeing Rio.

Release seized Beth first, the world stopping with exploding pleasure, hard spams and bright lights. He let her experience all of it before he began thrusting inside her again. His hand still held hers, tightening as his motions sped up and he joined her in falling apart.

They were silent, except for their heartbeats trying to sync up. The tears that fell from Beth’s eyes onto her pillowcase surprised her. She turned her head, unwilling to reveal her emotions. But Rio’s strong, warm arms enfolded her, drew her close against him. She forgot to be resentful, scared, guarded. She nuzzled her face into his neck. He kept touching her. Her hair, her cheek, her back. She looked at him with a tearful, silent apology in her eyes. They said nothing to each other. But for the first time since coming back from the dead, Rio smiled at her.


End file.
